


Family

by eternaleponine



Series: Ghosts That We Knew [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Deleted Scene, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 11:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A "deleted scene" that occurs after Chapter 27, on the night of Valentine's Day.  Natasha tries to convince Mr. Sullivan not to punish Clint for sneaking out in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family

Natasha looked down at her phone and felt her eyes burn. Two symbols... a symbol and a number really... that shouldn't mean anything but in this context meant enough to bring up tears again. '<3'

_Stupid boy._

She shoved the phone back in her pocket and looked over at Mr. Sullivan, swallowing hard before opening her mouth. "Sir?"

His eyes flicked to her, then back to the road. "What is it, Natasha?"

"Is not his fault. Is mine. Please don't be mad at him." She looked over at Clint's foster father, watching his face, every twitch of his jaw and narrowing of his eye. "I call him. It was stupid thing, but what else I can do? What else I can think of to do is nothing."

The words were coming out all jumbled up and she wasn't sure she was really saying what she meant, but she had to make him understand. She had to convince him that Clint was innocent and that he shouldn't be punished, because if he was, they probably wouldn't let him see her outside of school for a while, and that... she couldn't handle that. 

It was a weakness, to need someone else, to rely on them to help keep you standing when the weight of everything got to be too much. She'd never needed anyone before, but then, her life had never been this heavy before. And there had never been anyone like him in it before. 

"He made the choice to leave the house," Mr. Sullivan said. "He knows the rules and he chose to break them."

"For _me_ ," Natasha insisted. Why couldn't he understand? "He only want for me to be safe. I am lost, alone, in middle of night and cold and scared. I need someone. He is only friend I know I call and he come." He was her only friend period, really, but Mr. Sullivan didn't need to know that part. 

"Which begs the question, what were you doing out at two o'clock in the morning on a school night, anyway?" He looked over at her, her smeared makeup and her bare legs and scraped knee, and she knew what he was thinking and it twisted knots in her gut, of anger and of shame both, because what he was thinking wasn't all the way wrong, but how dare he anyway? He didn't know her, he didn't know anything!

She bit the inside of her cheek, hard enough she tasted blood, and grimaced. "My boyfriend, he take me out. We stay out too late, then we fight and then he leave me where I don't know. I start walking to home, I think, but then I am lost and I call Clint and he find me and bring me home."

"His home," Mr. Sullivan said. "Not yours."

"Is closer," Natasha replied, because that's what Clint had said. She wasn't sure if it had actually been true or not. "And he wants for me to be safe. His house – your house – is safe, so that is where he bring me. He is tired, he not think right, but is my fault. I am one who wake him in middle of night. I am one who bring all trouble to him, to all of you, and that I am sorry for." 

She _was_ sorry she'd caused trouble, for Clint and for his foster family. But she wasn't completely sorry. Not with what had happened, how things had turned out. Not with knowing that how she felt about Clint... it wasn't one-sided. Not with knowing that what she did – what she was made to do – really didn't change how he felt about her. He'd said that it didn't, but then he'd been careful to keep her at arm's length even when he was holding her close. He was her best friend, and that had to be good enough, because she was damaged goods, tainted by all the hands that touched her, and no one – not even Clint – would want anything to do with that.

Except he did. It still didn't explain what had happened before, what seemed like an eternity ago, but she had his heart now, and he had hers, and they were wounded, but they would mend. They could mend, with each other to patch up the places they couldn't reach on their own.

"I know that you're sorry, Natasha," Mr. Sullivan said. "But it doesn't change the fact that he broke the rules."

He sounded like a broken record, and Natasha's jaw tightened. "When you were young, you had friends you would do anything for, yes? Now you have wife, children, you would do anything for, yes? Is not so different. I need him, he come. You would do for your family, he do for his."

Mr. Sullivan pulled up in front of the shop and stopped the car, looking at her fully now. He sighed and handed her a tissue from a pack between the seats. "You should clean yourself up," he said. 

She dabbed at the streaks of makeup, knowing that it wouldn't help much. It wasn't as if it mattered. If her uncle was still up, it would please him to see her like this. Maybe then he would think he'd won. He'd seen her leave, had laughed at her as she bolted without even bothering to change except to put on a coat and more practical shoes. He'd known exactly what he was doing, and he'd enjoyed every minute of it. 

"Please," she said again, one last effort. "He is my best friend. He did not mean any trouble. Was my fault."

"All right, Natasha," he said. "Go try to get some sleep." He paused, then added, "You'll see him in the morning." 

"Thank you," she said, getting out of the car. She hurried to the building and let herself in, knowing Mr. Sullivan wouldn't leave until she was safely inside. 

Because he had no way of knowing that inside wasn't safe at all.


End file.
